Night Terrors
by scubysnak
Summary: A traumatic event causes Sara to have worse nightmares than usual. CS Chapter two final up
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'em…I wish I did…and boy the fun I'd have!!

"Lindsey. Sweetie. It's time to go. You need to come with me now," Gil Grissom said as he held his hand out to the lost looking teenager.

Her chin was quivering as she looked up at him with tear-streaked cheeks. "They're both…"

"Yes, sweetie, they are," he said as he sat down beside her and pulled her into a hug.

"Lindsey, I know it's still pretty soon. But do you know what happened? What went on between them tonight?" Although he was trying to be compassionate, Grissom was still an investigator and knew that the longer they waited, the fuzzier the details would become.

He looked down at the girl leaning against him and thought about how much she had grown over the years. For some reason, every time he'd look at her he'd always see her as that little girl who used to sleep on the couch in her mother's office at night.

As she stood up and walked out of her house, leaning on him for support, she said, "I think Sara had a nightmare."

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**Short, I know. But let's call it a teaser chapter. More will follow...I think.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em...but I wish I did.**

"Cath, I can't believe it happened to her," Sara said as she pulled the covers up and snuggled against her partner. "Her of all people. Her family…her sister--no, mother--in jail for having the rest of them killed because they were hurting her."

Catherine wrapped her arms around Sara and pulled her closer. After years of being together, she knew that words were not what Sara needed right now. She needed to be grounded. She needed to be held and reassured that everything was okay and would be okay. She needed to vent about what she was feeling. She needed to get it out.

"I've seen a lot of stuff. My mom killing my dad. Nick buried alive. Brass nearly dying. And just the stuff we see on a daily basis. We see the worst that humanity has to offer. I just don't know why it had to happen to her. She was doing so well," Sara started to cry against Catherine's shoulder. Her grip tightened around her.

"I'm tired of it, Cath. I just saw her two days ago. I took her to lunch like I always do. She was so excited because her foster family bought her a bicycle. A bicycle, Cath! They bought her a fucking bicycle and two days later she's dead."

Catherine rubbed her palms soothingly up and down Sara's back as her sobs started to subside.

"And of all the CSIs to be called in to work the case, they called me. They didn't call you. Or Nick. Or Warrick. Or Greg. Or Grissom. They called me. She was still so small. They were supposed to protect her, not kill her."

"Yes they were, baby. And they didn't protect her. And you'll make sure they pay. I know you cared about Brenda—a lot. But you still have to do your job, Sar. Make sure the bastards pay for what they did to her."

Sara relaxed further into her and before long, both women had fallen asleep.

As had been her experience for most of her life, the stress of the day's events brought Sara's nightmares to the surface. One moment, she had been cocooned in the safety of Catherine's warm embrace and in the next, something evil from her past had her pinned to the bed.

Sara's nightmares weren't typical nightmares. They were the things that made everyone else's nightmares look like fairytales. But Sara's nightmare this night was more of a night terror. Typically, Catherine could gently wake her from her lurid dreams. This night was different.

Catherine was awakened by Sara's thrashing and attempts to pull herself out of her arms.

"Baby," she tried to gently shake her. "Sweetie, it's just a nightmare. Wake up, baby." On this night, gentle nudging and soft words would not bring her out of her delusion. Instead, it would end up costing her dearly.

As Catherine sat up and leaned over Sara to prod her a bit more aggressively, Sara's hands encircled her throat and rolled them over so that she sat atop her.

Catherine clawed at Sara's hands gasping for air. Her body, like that of a fish out of water, was flapping helplessly against the bed.

"You won't hurt me again. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not ever. You won't hurt me again," she kept repeated as her grip tightened around Catherine's throat. Her eyes were wide and open, staring into Catherine's as the last of her fight left her body.

No one but Sara would know how much time passed between when she first wrapped her hands around Catherine's throat and when she snapped out of her hallucination. When she did, however, her screams and cries woke Lindsey and certainly others on their block.

Sara had climbed off of the Catherine and was frantically checking her for a pulse. As soon as she laid her fingers upon her wrist, she felt how cold Catherine had already become and knew it was too late.

She stumbled backwards off of the bed, falling onto the floor with a loud thud. She was busy staring down at her hands when she heard the door to their bedroom open. She looked up in time to see Lindsey's eyes go wide with terror and shock as she took in the prone and obviously dead figure of her mother.

Sara shot up from the floor and pushed Lindsey out of the room, shutting and locking the door behind her. The teen stood on the other side of the door pounding and screaming, "Mom! Sara! What's wrong with Mom?" At some point the pounding stopped, and Lindsey said, "I'm calling 911."

Sara looked at Catherine's dead body and down again at the hands she knew had snuffed out her life before turning and walking into their bathroom. Intent and focused on the task ahead of her, she opened the drawer that they kept the hypodermic needles in. Catherine had been diagnosed as a diabetic two years ago and had been taking daily insulin shots. She pulled out three needles and walked back into their bedroom to the small fridge they kept in a corner for Cath's insulin. Expertly, she filled each syringe completely with Catherine's insulin and didn't bother tossing the vials back in the refrigerator.

In the distance, she could hear the wail of sirens from police cars and an ambulance. She only had a few minutes and she silently hoped it would be enough. She climbed back on the bed and quickly unloaded the contents of each syringe into her veins before laying her head on Catherine's cold, stiff shoulder and closing her eyes.

"It won't be long now, sweetie," she said as the noises outside their bedroom door grew fainter and fainter.


End file.
